


The Legend of Ruined-Tail Redux

by Structure_Spice666



Category: Elder Scrolls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Structure_Spice666/pseuds/Structure_Spice666
Summary: Join Squeeper, a noble born elf, the thief on his journey of friendship, adventure, and burglary . Squeeper, a young(ish) elf has a dream or Robbing every vault in Cyrodiil. His plans are warped when he has to accommodate for his new friend, and the assassins chasing him. Rated T just in case. Disclaimer: I Own Nothing





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let's Play Oblivion](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/281562) by SpiffySquee. 



When I was born, no one had any idea what I was going to do, the things I would accomplish. I have lived a long life, and still some days I feel as if it had all been for nothing. My name is Anthropolis Lightfoot, and I cannot die. I was once as mortal as you might be, but the journeys of my youth have changed much. I leave here the accounts of my life, including my journals from long ago. It used to be that no one knew my name, that who I am was shrouded in mystery, but now everyone knows my name, yet they believe me to be this grand warrior fighting for good.

  
Allow me to correct that thought. You could say I am a good man, I gave to the poor, helped those who needed it, and I've always thought of myself as a nice individual. Make no mistake however, I was no warrior. While people now know me as Anthropolis Lightfoot, long ago I was known as Squeeper, the thief. My story started long ago...

 

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I was born an elf to a noble family, by which I mean nobility. My parents were loving and caring, making sure I had everything I needed, while still instilling the finer points of nobility; speaking eloquently, arithmetic, how to read and write, etc. However, unlike most noble houses, my family did not partake in the politicking that frequently took place. They believed that a true noble house had no need for scheming and plotting. They believed that wealth was to be shared with the less fortunate, with those who could use it far greater than we could. These values they instilled in me.

  
My preferred name, Squeeper, was given to me by my parents when I was a young child. A rat had found its way into our home, and into my room. I had tried to imitate the rat, though failing in the attempt, managing a "Squeep." It was then that my mother, in adoration, called me a squeeper.

My upbringing was a happy one. I was taught morally strong values, had adoring parents, and a natural curiosity for the world. Yet nothing could prepare me for the pain that came next. My parents met their end in an unfortunate 'accident' one horrid day. No one knew what happened, but the local rumors were that the other nobles were jealous over the attention garnered by my parents, and conspired for them to meet their death that day. Whether or not that was the truth, I couldn't tell you, though I suspect very much that it was the truth.  
While the ashes were still warm, and while I was still grieving, the other noble houses started bickering to themselves over my parents possessions, even my own. Yet, despite my protests, and the protests of the people who loved my parents I was left on the streets with nary a Septim to my name.

The first few days were rough. Though some people were caring and generous, most didn't care about a child who had lost everything. And few even proclaimed their distaste in my parents and how their deaths were "a good thing". Before too long a member of the local thieves guild found me and brought me to their den. The rest of the members saw the potential of a noble-born among their guild, especially one that they could train.  
They taught me many of the tricks and tools of the trade that I still use to this day, the fine art of stealth, the thrill of stealing, the challenge of picking pockets, the marksmanship of archery, the skill of swordplay, and the magics of alchemy. My wit and charm went along nicely with these skills, and I soon learned to blend the two.

After many years of training and practice, it was whispered among the guild that with more training and practice, I might be able to rice up to the role of a master thief. And as much as I loved the idea, I found that I was far different from the other thieves. The other thieves had no drive, no passion for the job. They were content with the gold, and that was all they cared for.  
I, on the other hand, loved being a thief for the thrill, the challenge, the feeling I got whenever I completed a heist. But gold, gold never satisfied me. While I enjoyed the feel of fine clothes, and the cleanliness of fine establishments, I never managed to hold onto gold too long, nor did I give much to the guild. Yet, many a homeless elf would find piles of gold next to their shoddy bunks in the morning, courtesy of yours truly.

I became something of a hometown hero to the homeless and the poor. I never stole from those who couldn't afford it, and gave all, if not more to the poor. The guild didn't take kindly to my habits, feeling that I was cutting them out of a lot of potential gold. With their greed, and my selflessness, we could not reconcile these differences, so I chose the best route I could see. I quit the guild.

This was possibly one of the worst, yet one of the best decisions I could have ever made. The guild didn't like that one of their assets, one that they had taken in, 'betrayed' them. So, with a quick pouch of gold to the right hands in the city guard, I became a hunted criminal, and I was no longer welcome in my home.

So, with nothing but the clothes on my back, and a small dagger, I stowed away on a ship bound to a land I had never been to, yet had always heard about. This is where my story truly begins, in a land called Cyrodiil. This is Ruined-Tail's story.


End file.
